Oceans
by Black and Red Candles
Summary: An unwilling, ashamed Kaito goes down a dark, spiraling, rocky road, called pedophilism, and it's nothing quite like he expected.
1. Metaphors

**Disclaimer**: The Vocaloid name and characters and everything associated do not belong to me, nor do I receive any monetary compensation from the typing of this story. All characters herein are _fictional_ and and coincedences are, well, coincidental. Viewpoints are not reflective of mine. I do not condone pedophilism.

**Summary:** An unwilling, ashamed Kaito goes down a dark, spiraling, rocky road, called pedophilism, and it's nothing quite like he expected.

**Author's Notes: **This is just an intro (and a test chapter), and while it seems that it has no correlation whatsoever…it does. And, at this moment in time, honestly, the plot's going to go where it wants to go. I hope you all enjoy, and I apologize in advance if my writing is off. I haven't written in a long while.

Thinking about it, and standing on its shoreline, Kaito thinks, as he had been for the past few months, that his fucked up life, is like a tiny toy boat on the massive expansive of water called an ocean.

It made sense to him at the time he'd come up with it, really. After all, his life was full of ups and downs at the time; varying shades of blue and green in his family; cold, harsh reality that brutally gnashed holes into his little wooden boat of life, and the quiet lull of good times that gently lapped at his feet when he dangles them over the side.

However, Kaito can no longer remember those gentle, soothing sounds of waves that playfully swallow his ankles; he hasn't felt them in what seems like years, and each and every minute that goes by, it feels like they're farther away, and he knows why, but does nothing to rectify it. Nothing can be rectified anymore; he's the toy boat stranded in the middle of a goddamned monsoon with no way out and no foreseeable ends in sight.

Maybe it's because, unlike any other Vocaloid and UTAU, he decided a while back that he was going to live alone.

Maybe it's because he misses his dysfunctional family; how could he not? Kaito misses the way that Rin looked in the morning before she had her coffee – disgruntled, uncoordinated, with a tendency to lean to the left; the way Miku smiled, smiled at everyone and everything, the way she smiled oh-so-devilishly when she snuck leek into something she wasn't supposed to; Len, the way he tried so _hard_ to keep everyone together, even when they were fighting; even…he even missed…Meiko. Kaito had gotten to the point, a while back, where he even missed being _Baa-kaito_ because he was such an idiot.

Or maybe it's just because he's depressed and lonely and wants to go home.

At the Vocaloid household, there was always someone there, always someone to talk to him, should he feel the desire to socialize. He never felt lonely. He never felt _unwanted._

However, the ocean has no capacity for long-lasting friends - just the occasional traveler and all the living things within it – but those wither and die, too, and the ocean is once again, left alone. Kaito knows his toy boat is one of those 'short-lived' friends, too, and doesn't even feel like trying.

So, hating to look backwards, hating to see where he's at now, and with nothing else to do on his kiddie ride, he looks forward…with absolutely nothing to look forward to. When he'd lived with _them_, it had all been about the next song, the next hit, the next chance for stardom. Now? Now…

He no longer sings.

In a weird way, Kaito doesn't miss it – the singing, that is. He was built and programmed and forced to live and _breathe_ singing – but he doesn't miss it, doesn't miss the way his voice graced the undeserving air with a beautiful melody; doesn't miss having to create new songs. After everything that happened, Kaito found that in retrospect…singing wasn't everything.

In fact, it was nothing at all.

The reason he'd loved to sing was the _experience_. The Vocaloids all loved to sing, and all did so with a passion, but Kaito found that his interest lie more with the concert-aspect – he could make so many people smile or cry, all with just a few sung words. The gyrating motion of his hips in dancing, especially with another Vocaloid, and the cheering the crowd had rewarded him with - he had lived through performing.

However, that was all in the past. _Now is what should matter,_ Kaito thinks, as he walks away from the frigid ocean shore. He just wishes he could lie to himself better; his lies are about as see-through as the puffs of air from his lungs showing up in the chilly winter air.

_My life is like the ocean_, he reminds himself, on the way back to the apartment. He's so careful to not fall down on the icy terrain and bruise himself; no one walking by would bother to help him up. _It doesn't make excuses, and neither should I_. But when each thought and every thing comes back to either singing or the Vocaloid family, he can't help but excuse himself.

_It wasn't completely my fault._

He steps into the foyer, glad that his tiny apartment is warm and toasty. He wrestles his boots off and ignores the fact they're sweat-soaked; he lets them flop over before padding over to his fridge and opening the door.

_It wasn't my fault at all, actually._

He steps into the foyer, glad that his tiny apartment is warm and toasty. He wrestles his boots off and ignores the fact they're sweat-soaked; he lets them flop over before padding over to his fridge and opening the door.

What Kaito sees inside is no big deal; he sees it every day, like it's an extended metaphor of his life contained in a rectangular metal box, but still, he checks it, out of habit.

The refrigerator, as per usual, is empty.

_I can't be blamed. I moved out because I wanted a life for myself._

He sits on the couch and turns on the TV, and doesn't even watch it. He never does, unless it's something about his family. Right now, the sport's channel for whatever fucking reason is on – Kaito despises sports, unlike Gakupo, who had an unhealthy obsession with cricket and rugby, of all things – and it's all white noise in the background, reminding the blue-haired man that he's a bachelor stuck inside a tiny apartment with the fucking sports channel on and he feels like he should have a beer in his hand and a billion dazzlingly-fake women clinging to him just to fulfill the 'famous, rich, and reasonably-attractive-because-of-his-money-not-he-himself bachelor' stereotype.

Kaito makes no move to change the channel. That would require an energy that he no longer possesses.

_I wanted a life for myself. I wasn't feeling guilty, or ashamed. It's only natural that we wouldn't stay together forever. Promising things like that was childish of everyone, even if we are robots that never outwardly age._

The young man sits on his couch, his ugly, blue-and-white striped couch, that reminds him of the sailor suits that Rin would always force Len into, and sits, and thinks, something that the other Vocaloids hadn't thought he was capable of.

_I miss them though. I really do. I've never felt so lost._

It wasn't like he had been ignoring their various attempts to get ahold of him – he just, he…hadn't…had the time. Kaito dislikes cellphones, that's all; he isn't avoiding them because the shame likes to smash holes into his lifeboat every time he sees their names or faces.

Eventually, though, he knows his luck would run out; someday, he's going to be thrown overboard and drowned in the unforgiving waters.

A knock at the door informs Kaito that today was to be the day when the ocean finally gets bored of him, and decides to tip over his life boat for fun.


	2. Fears

**Disclaimer**: The Vocaloid name and characters and everything associated do not belong to me, nor do I receive any monetary compensation from the typing of this story. All characters herein are _fictional_ and coincedences are, well, coincidental. Viewpoints are not reflective of mine. I do not condone pedophilism.

**Summary:** An unwilling, ashamed Kaito goes down a dark, spiraling, rocky road, called pedophilism, and it's nothing quite like he expected.

**Author's Notes: **Sorry for the long wait – I know it must've felt like forever! But I just recently started college and – okay, you don't need to hear it. Thank you to those who took those moments out of their day to favorite, alert, and review this story. You're the reason there's a second chapter. (: Enjoy.

* * *

Of all the people Kaito _ever_ expected to hunt, track, and surprise him with a face-to-face confrontation, Megurine Luka was not on the list – but here she is, standing with her arm wrapped around herself, emitting awkward, uncomfortable waves.

Kaito, being the forever eloquent man he is, makes the moment even more tacit; he stares at Luka, at the fact she's so tall, with long, slender legs, ample breasts, and an hourglass waistline and thinks that she's the epitome of beauty - he finds her not in the least bit attractive.

"Kaito…" The way she addresses Kaito in her soft, cool voice almost makes him laugh – but instead, he shuts up, and patiently waits while Luka struggles with herself. "It's been a while."

"Yes," Is Kaito's automatic response, and he wants nothing to do with her, or this; it's like fate's slapping him in the face, "Though not as long as I'd hoped, Megurine." Of course, back when he'd lived in the house, they'd been on first name basis, but, given the awkwardness and undercurrent of hostility of the situation, Kaito would later say that last names were called for.

Luka was silent, perhaps thoughtful, perhaps considering that she shouldn't have come here at all, and on that point, the blue-haired man agreed. No Vocaloid would ever set foot in this apartment, not while Kaito was still functioning.

"Say what you want already, I don't have all day," He snaps, no longer smiley and happy. "Megurine, you are taking up valuable time. I'm needed elsewhere." Of course he's not, but he'd rather be anywhere than this. Quite honestly, he's feeling rather itchy.

"…Oh," She whispers softly, and it's not even really a whisper, but more of a depressed mewl coming from her throat, and Kaito hates this moment. It, this, it makes him feel guilty, like he wants to invite her into his apartment, and…and…do whatever normal people do when having company at their house, because how the hell should he know what that's like – "I should get to the point." At this, the ex-Vocaloid perks up; unfolding his arms from his chest. Luka notices, and says nothing, simply clearing her throat before continuing.

"We want you back, Kaito. Back _home._"

Afterwards, Kaito would swear that no, he _didn't_ slam the door in her face on _purpose,_ his fingers just _slipped_ and _'Oops! There goes that darn door again!' _but what he couldn't do is block out her screaming and pounding on the door for a good half an hour.

His life is so full of excuses, and he knows it, but it's the only way he knows how to stay afloat.

"_We all forgive you, Kaito!"_

"_Come back home!"_

And by the time Luka falls silent, Kaito's crying, being the overtly-sensitive man that he is. He doesn't really wonder if Luka is saying the truth; it doesn't matter, really, because soon enough, the blue-haired man will know for himself.

Today, he opens the freezer while tapping on his shoes, hoping Luka is still there, still waiting for him. Today, the freezer has a single item in it – ice cream – and he quickly grabs it before he heads out the door.

"_Even…even…Miku forgives you."_

It's a long, quiet drive from his apartment to the Vocaloid's household, purposefully. Luka keeps glancing over at Kaito with those deep, beautiful eyes, and Kaito keeps looking away, looking towards the ocean. It's calm today, with a beautiful blue-green hue with the occasional floating ice chunk, with the waves gently whooshing as they continue their journey, and seagulls…shrilly shrieking at the top of their lungs, arguing over a frozen French fry no doubt one of them will choke on.

Kaito's silent, and eats his ice cream.

The pink-haired woman fidgets; taps her fingers on the steering wheel to the tune of 'Just Be Friends', her eyes never stay too long on one spot, her fingers (when not tapping) are constantly changing radio stations. By the end of the drive, Kaito's almost regretting coming back home. Almost.

But…is this place even home? He looks up at the house; he can instantly tell who lives where, just by the windows into their rooms and the roof (Teto's roof, for whatever reason, has at least 50 holes in it, and Len and Rin's room radiates more yellow than a cartoon smiley-faced sun). He hasn't lived here…in…

He blinks, slowly, once, then twice, and double-checks himself.

Has…has it really been…a _year?_ One whole year without the Vocaloids? Ah, but yes, it was one year of miserable nights…though, he knows that staying here would've been even worse.

"Kaito," Luka says softly, her eyes so soft and warm, "Welcome…welcome home," And she smiles for what must truly be the first time, and Kaito can't help but give her a trademarked-Kaito smile back. For a moment, he's sure that this is where he wants to be, here, with Luka, standing on the driveway, enjoying the crisp winter sun. Then he realizes, with abject horror, that she's waiting for him to take that first step into the house.

So he begins to shuffle. He drags his feet. Luka steps in time with him, almost as if she had been his partner in duets, not Miku. The blue-haired man stares down at his shoes the whole time, almost cursing at them. _Now of all times, when it would be _convenient _for you to trip me, you simply decide to stay tied for once. I hate you, shoes. You too, shoelaces. You too, aglet, and yes, I know the name for you. Meiko made sure of that._

He's at the front door, without even realizing it. His body had already made the automatic reaction of grasping the doorknob, and was in the process of beginning to let himself in. _If my eyes get any wider, they're going to pop right out of my skull. _Luka stares at him imploringly, still waiting.

"_Even Miku forgives you."_

_But Luka, I don't even forgive myself._

And before he can even realize it, Gakupo is standing there at the door, staring, and staring more, and the awkwardness chokes Kaito; it's like trying to breathe when you have a cold, and your nose is so stuffed up it's running everywhere from lack of places for mucus to go. It's like trying to breathe when your head is underwater, and your lungs are _fighting_ for that gasp of air, that blessed oxygen, that you breathe in saltwater and choke and die.

Kaito wishes, again, that he hadn't come, but after a long time, and after a few more (so very awkward) moments of staring, Gakupo simply turns and stalks away, presumably to go watch more cricket. Luka decides to join him, realizing that Kaito…really doesn't want to have anyone with him.

_This is it. Do I really want to enter this house?_

And the only answer Kaito's brain can come up with is, _Yes, you've always wanted to, because you never emotionally left._

So he steps inside.

Inwardly, the house has not changed one bit, as far as Kaito can see. The walls are still filled with doodles from Teto, in bright, happy, nauseating neon crayon colors; the house still smells faintly of leek, sake, and warm, sweet bread; there is a nightstand next to the door in which Rin had, so long ago, placed a venus fly trap that Kaito always thought she wanted to train to eat humans. But…although Kaito's senses tell him that _yes, this is the Vocaloid home_, and _yes, nothing has changed_, something _did_ change, Kaito could feel it palpably through the air. Something was off, different…

He continued into the house, up the stairs, careful not to trip and fall (as he used to tend to do, and quite often at that), avoiding the seventh step from the top in the case it should decide to shriek; pass the door on the left, a quiet, demure, cream color with a banana meticulously carved into it; pass the door just past it, where the entrance is a curtain of pink, sparkling beads that scream, _I'm a cheap child's toy and I will break the instant your child chews on me_; pass the door on the right that is a 17th century styled, purple and black gothic door, to the door straight ahead.

Quite honestly, Kaito should not fear this door, and what's inside. It's just a simple door and room, right? Where someone once lived? It shouldn't mean much. It shouldn't mean anything at all. The fact it had once been a deep, warming, midnight blue, and that there are tiny slivers of blue still left in the creases of wood and corners, doesn't mean a damn thing. It doesn't intimidate Kaito. He isn't afraid of the memories inside. He isn't afraid of what he'll find inside.

He's afraid of what he'll _do_ once inside…

But it shouldn't really matter, should it? He doesn't live here anymore.

With a deep breath, the blue-haired man grabs the handle of the door, and opens it.


	3. Confrontations

**Disclaimer: **The Vocaloid name and characters and everything associated do not belong to me, nor do I receive any monetary compensation from the typing of this story. All characters herein are _fictional_ and coincidences are, well, coincidental. Viewpoints are not reflective of mine. I do not condone pedophilism.

**Warnings: **One sided Luka/Kaito. Fast plot in this chapter, but a lot of key points.

**Author's Note: **This originally was only supposed to be a regular ol' 1000 word chapter, but I figured that I _almost_ hit Len's age in reviews, _almost_ Kaito's age in alerts, and _almost_ the number of years Vocaloid's been out in favorites – it's a triple chapter, coming out to about 3,000 words total. Thank you for your reviews, alerts, favorites, and time in reading this story. I also want to address a question that was posted by a reviewer: "I'm confused about if Luka's still there, waiting, when Kaito comes out." That, really, is for you to decide. I purposely left it ambiguous. Did he have to awkwardly contact her and stumble over a confession that he wants to come back? Or was she there? It's up to you, the reader. ;) Enjoy.

* * *

x

_"Although the world is full of suffering, it is also full of the overcoming of it." - Helen Keller_

x

Surprisingly, when Kaito opens that bedroom door, and steps inside…he's not really so much surprised at what's inside, but the amount of _dust._ Miku is absolutely neurotic when it came to cleaning; a speck of dust or smidgen of dirt would not so much as _dare_ to infiltrate her fortress of cleanliness. Obviously, with the thick, woolly blankets of dust coating everything…

The room had not been touched since around the time Kaito and Miku had last been in it.

Of course, Kaito was not surprised to see smatterings of teal paint splattered like angry blood splashes all over the room; nor was he surprised to see the bed's legs, awkwardly jutting out from underneath it, like wooden legs beneath a wooden human body that had fallen off a skyscraper; nor was he surprised to see spots of dark, angry red littering the room.

The ex-Vocaloid could do nothing but cover his eyes with a large, trembling hand at the overwhelming disaster that was once his room. But should he have expected anything less?

The blue-haired man steps around torn, ripped clothing, around broken memories and broken trust, and comes to lay on the bed, which groans under his weight like a burn victim. In fact, come to think of it, Kaito's quite surprised that his room, literally, was not lobbed off the house or incinerated to a burnt, empty black. Then again, Miku probably never wanted to be in this room again, and be reminded of everything that had happened to them, like a rollercoaster ride that had started off so fantastically great and at the end, the tracks were broken and the rollercoaster car just plunged straight into the ground and killed everyone involved.

Kaito had, about one year, twenty-seven days, four hours, and nine minutes, broken off his year and a half engagement with Miku Hatsune, and had been so horribly, sinfully honest to her face, and said (quite calmly) that he didn't love her.

That had been so long ago, yet to Kaito, it feels like it had been five minutes. The layer of dust in this room can't hide or soften the harsh blows the memories of this room strike every second Kaito continues to breathe in the stale, musty air. It just proves further what everyone's told him all along: that he's stupid, that he can't do anything right. If he'd been smart, he could've loved her.

Once upon a time, in this room, a young robot, who thought that he could never experience love, laid his eyes on the newest addition to their "family"; a beautiful, happy girl, whose teal curtain of hair brushed the ground whenever she threw her dainty head back and laughed whole-heartedly.

Once upon a time, it had been him, who had, on an impulse, gathered up her hair, and parted it, and put it into the two, messiest pigtails that…kind of just resembled knots. She'd stood there, in the mirror, gawking at herself, before looking back at him, and with such an honest smile, said so happily, "Thank you." Even though Kaito knew that it had taken her a few days to get all the knots out.

It was in this room he'd thought he'd loved her: it had been a normal afternoon, overcast, to be exact, and Kaito had been writing a song. She'd laid on his bed, counted the dots on his ceiling out loud for a good two hours, and Kaito had thought she'd been the most beautiful girl to grace this sweet Earth.

It had been in this room that he'd proposed, and she'd said yes, with an honest smile, hair in pigtails, looking so content, so fulfilled in life…and a blue umbrella in her hand.

It had, of course, been in this room, that he'd trashed her love, because in truth, he had realized that it was affection that drove him, and that affection alone shouldn't drive a marriage. He'd realized it would be unfair to marry Miku, when he himself could not fully love her – though, he had tried with all his heart to – and that it would be easier, in the end, to let her go.

Of course, afterwards, the Vocaloids had hated him for it. But why? He _still_ couldn't forgive himself for causing her so much pain, and then leaving her so shortly afterwards; but it had still been the right, proper thing to do. Now, Miku would be free to find someone who truly loved her back, and Kaito would never have to lie every time he looked in her face and proclaimed his love. Why couldn't anyone else see that he was not at fault here, that he still isn't?

_Perhaps it's because I took the blame on myself. I can't blame the others for what I did. I have no right to._

But still, something bittersweet and tastes of guilt thickly layers itself at the back of his throat as he decides to head downstairs and see the other Vocaloids – and he prays, no, _begs_ that Miku isn't down there.

Kaito steps into the kitchen, the way a man steps onto a mine field. His eyes dart everywhere, even though it's empty, as if expecting someone to pop out at him at any second – which, of course, is a reasonable course of action, given that Teto has the propensity to do such a thing. At any rate, it seems the kitchen is Miku-free – a good sign – but also free of everyone else, except Luka.

The pink-haired Vocaloid is calmly sipping tea, which Kaito is sure has absolutely no sugar in it; avoiding putting her elbow into an empty tuna can (no doubt inhaled upon sighting), and doing the crossword puzzle – a combo that is downright bizarre to everyone that isn't Luka herself. Kaito decides to sit next to her at their U-shaped kitchen bar, and she glances up, slightly blushes, and looks down.

"I'm sorry," Luka murmurs, "You know, about your room. Miku was…upset…"

"I know," Kaito says, reflexively, because, well, he understands. If he'd been in Miku's shoes…

Then again, he isn't programmed for hate, or cynicism; he's programmed for sure, fluorescent light-bulb light smiles, even when he's drowning on the inside…

So, perhaps he would've just picked himself, and just…existed.

Much like what he's doing now.

Luka sips her tea, and fills in another word in her crossword puzzle. Kaito, without trying to be conspicuous, tries to see what language she's writing in – English, of course, because Luka is forever working on her English, despite the other Vocaloids trying to tell her that it's just not worth it – and, after being unable to read it, just simply looks at his lap.

"I'm surprised Teto hasn't squeezed herself in the front-most cabinet again," Kaito supplies, trying to break the silence – it's not awkward, he's not uncomfortable, not at all, not in the least bit – because if anything, Kaito hates silence, because it generally means failure (and of course, this always means _his _failure), "Last time I walked in…" He trails off, not liking where his train of thought is heading.

Luka sips her tea.

Kaito's hands slowly turn into fists in his pants.

"Where's Miku?" He decides to venture, feeling a great amount of pride at saying her name for the first time in a year; indeed, it had been a feat!

"Shopping," Luka answered, vaguely, and filled in another word on her crossword puzzle – Kaito realizes it's finished – and she stands up. "No one else is home. Gakupo left a while ago to go get his pedicure and hair washed."

"Y-yeah…I was wondering why it was so…quiet," Kaito answered, feeling his stomach slowly turn into knots. Luka's giving him this look, and for the life of him, he can't figure out what it means. He's sure it's a look he's never seen before – it's almost like she's trying to kill him with her eyes, but not quite, because she inches closer, and Kaito can smell her scent –

Roses, pale and pink; large, overflowing with soft, velveteen petals –

"We're alone, Kaito," Luka repeats, and her voice is like soft, warm feathers, floating down.

"Y-yeah." Kaito answers dumbly, not quite sure how to react. He'd never experienced anything like this – though the back of his brain shouts he should run like all hell, screw Luka, this was _uncomfortable_ – but instead, for whatever reason, her hand lifts up, and Kaito's hand goes to join it, and they seam together, like two separate magnets attracted at the poles that meld into one; her eyes are deep and unreadable, and her cheeks, lips, and hair, are all dusted with lovely, velveteen pink; Luka does not just smell like roses…she is one.

"I-I thought you liked Gakupo, Luka. I thought you're dating _him_," Is what Kaito wanted to say, but instead, all that came out was, "Unf," when Luka brought her soft, cool hand up to touch Kaito's cheek. This touch was something so foreign – certainly, all Kaito knew was rough, angry blows from Meiko, because he was nothing more than an idiot to her; soft, fleeting, unsure butterfly-touches, from Miku, as if she wasn't sure he was what she really wanted; sturdy, security-blanket hugs from Len, when he really needed someone to listen to him – but this was none of those…it was soft, sweet, unsure, firm, casual, and yet, intimate. Luka's hand trembled slightly, but she held it there, and soon enough, both of her hands are on his face; gentle and cool like downy from a bird's wing.

_Run, you idiot. Run already! She's going to become another Miku, you know she is, so why aren't you running -_

"I wanted you to come back for so long," She admits, her cheeks melting into even a darker pink, "I really missed you. I…I lied to you, Kaito. I said everyone forgave you, but, I," She hesitates, and suddenly, her blue eyes pierce his own – "I'm the only one, I'm the only one who wants you back. No one even knows you're here. No one will know when you leave. I…" With each word, Luka seems to fall apart more, like a doll whose owner plucks and tugs on the seams of a hated stuffed animal, until they unraveled into nothing but stuffing, cloth, and thread, "I love you, Kaito."

_- Run. __Now._

And she's kissing him, at least his chin, because he's so tall, before he can even begin to process what was said. Tears fill her eyes, "I'm just a robot, but I feel…I feel _something_ for you, I don't know what it is, and I've been trying to figure it out, really, I have, I've listened and observed humans to know if what I feel is love and –"

The blue-haired man swoops in, and gives her a quick peck on the cheek, and then, without a word or explanation –

Kaito runs for the nearest exit, which happens to be the front door, and leaves Luka standing there, shocked, with tears running down her cheeks.

_Not my fault_

_Luka –_

_Scared, I'm scared -_

And he runs, his long legs and robotic body keeping him going,

_I can't do this_

_Luka, she, I can't_

He doesn't know where he is, and with no one to guide him, he just continues to blindly run,

_I'm so scared,_

_Afraid to keep running away_

_Afraid to run back_

_Luka, sorry_

_S o r r y_

And still yet he runs, at full tilt, until he trips and falls, and only then, does his motion stop.

"No wonder why Meiko used to call me 'Baakaito', haha," He can't stop laughing, laughing at his own self-deprecation; he can't stop crying. Why, of all things, did he have to run? Couldn't he have just told Luka he didn't want her? He'd already done it once –

And that was why he couldn't, wouldn't, say it –

"I'm so stupid," He mutters to himself, "I'm so _stupid_; I really am worthless…I shouldn't have gone back." _But you did. _"I should've realized what Luka wanted." _It was obvious, but as usual, I was blinded, like a child._ "I shouldn't have run away." _But you did._

So what to do now?

Luka is – was – the only person is family that didn't hate him; even if he apologized to all of them – and he had, in a note – they still all hated him. They still, probably, all wanted him dead…

Even Miku, who was so beautiful, so kind, so genuinely sweet, probably wanted him dead.

_That…_

"That is why…"

_I can't…_

"Sing anymore."

And he sobs, curling up on himself. He doesn't know where, exactly, he is, and he didn't want to check. He doesn't know why he still tries – living without his family wasn't living, and living with his family hurt more than even his initial moment of conception, of awareness – he really, really just wants to go home, wherever 'home' is, anymore.

Soft footsteps come up behind him, and someone sits down next to him. He knows, right away, just from the sweet scent, who'd decided to grace him with her presence.

"Why?" She asks, and he can't say anything – just curls up on himself tighter, maybe she'll go away then.

"Why would you do such a thing?" She asks again, and he just can't answer; after all, the only thing that would come out is _stupidity_ that's as acrid as acid.

"You shouldn't have," She gently chides, and puts her hand on his shoulder, "Yet you did, right? So maybe you should move on. Maybe _I _should move on," She muses, and begins to card her slender fingers through his blue hair. "You're programmed to be a kid, Kaito, not an adult. It's okay to make mistakes. That's how you learn."

"No," He finally croaks out, without looking up, without admitting that he loves her hand in his hair, "My mistakes are all stupid. I hurt people, and people think it's okay, because, 'Oh, it's just Kaito, he doesn't know any better'; but I don't think I'm stupid, at least I didn't think I was, until…" Her hand pauses, just slightly, but Kaito doesn't notice. He's too busy trying to relearn how to breathe.

"Kaito," She whispers in his ear, "Kaito, it's okay."

Kaito sobs.

She makes soft, soothing noises, and continues to run her hand through her hair.

"You need to go back to the house," She smiles at him, a smile so genuine, it makes Kaito's heart skip a beat with its sweetness, "And tell Luka you're sorry."

"How will I find the way back?" Kaito looks up at the angry, metallic, inhuman sky scrapers around him; they loom high and tall above him, like giants, "I don't know where I am…"

"If I could find my way here, you can," And she smiles again, and Kaito, just for a second, feels so depressed and sad again.

"Don't smile for me," He murmurs, "Don't smile for me," He repeats, and she just smiles wider.

"Take care, Kaito." She says, and she walks away, leaving Kaito rooted to the spot. He doesn't feel any better; instead, he feels far worse. With another soft sob, he gathers himself up, and heads in the opposite direction that she'd gone.

_Miku:_

His feet shuffle, drag there, unwillingly,

_I wish I could've told you thank you, for everything, to your face, but I can't. Instead, I'm writing it in this note. I'm sorry – really – I'm glad I can't see your face when you read this_

And yet, he knows, instinctually, that he's going in the right direction – or perhaps, that was the robot part of him, navigating him in the correct direction. He doesn't know. He's so unsure.

_Because I bet, right now, you're crying; destroying my room_

He's so unsure of everything. He doesn't want to head back to Luka. He's afraid.

_And that's…that's okay. Destroy it as much as you want._

Afraid of what just happened, afraid of what will happen. He can't handle this.

_You know I don't mind. It's only what I really deserve._

He _knows_ he can't handle this. He's too worthless. He's a worthless, horrid robot. He's not human, like he pretends he is; he's not a kid, like his personality would leave you to believe.

_So…I'm getting off track, what I'm really trying to say_

Tears prick at Kaito's eyes again. So much, so fast. Was it just this morning that he'd been in the Vocaloid household once again for the first time in a year?

_Is simply_

Too much, too much. His hands come up to fist and clench in his hair. It hurts, inside and out.

_Good bye_.

And he stumbles his way up the front porch, and looks at the house, looming overhead. Luka's here. Luka's inside.

_And, one last thing_

He needs to apologize. Even _she _agreed that he should. But the door, once again, has a stigma in it. To open it, he needs to overcome what he's been running from for a year – and what just happened.

_I want to say_

But what other choice does he have? He didn't get to see anyone else. Even if they all still hate him…Kaito knows he'd give up ice cream forever if it meant that he could see them all again, even if just from afar.

_Thank you_

He murmurs, as he opens the door, "Why are the right things in life always," He toes out of his shoes, "The hardest to do?" He steps inside, for the second time that day. He's not prepared, but Kaito knows it's too late for that: he wasn't prepared earlier, either, but this is something he needs to rectify – not just Luka, but all of it – he needs to fix.

Kaito stumbles up the stairs, not caring if they creak or whine at him. He goes down the opposite side of the hallway, and reaches a simple grey door, with a salmon pink edging on it.

"Miku said I have to fix it," He murmurs, as he raises his hand to knock, "If she can find it in herself to forgive me," His hand descends, "Then I can find it in myself to make all of this right again." And his hand knocks on Luka's sad grey door.


	4. Intermission: Gemini

**Disclaimer: **Don't own, no profit. Understood?

**Author's Note:** I apologize for the long wait (university midterms next week ;u; I shouldn't have even been working on this)! This is an intermission chapter – in a way. ;D Enjoy. And, as always, thank you for those you take time out of your day to read, review, favorite, and alert this story.

Also, there are a few Vocaloid song references in this one (two to be exact)!

* * *

_"A dream you dream alone is only a dream. A dream you dream together is reality."_  
_- John Lennon_

x

Kaito thinks back to time, a few years ago, when he and Meiko were first 'born'. The world had been so new, so inviting, so welcoming – everything was an experience; from the antiseptic smell of the Crypton labs, to the feeling of slick, waxed, white tiled floors, to the feeling of Meiko's warm hand in comparison with his own cold one – and now, in just a few short years, the world had started to lose its shine. Innocence and naivety had shuddered under the weight of the world, and had buckled their knees to bow down to cynicism and reality.

Still, Kaito had smiled, carefree as always. Still, Meiko's hand would find its way into his; bleeding together red and warm, blue and cold. In fact, he couldn't imagine a life without her. They were, in essence, predecessors to Len and Rin – two halves, of one whole – and were just as inseparable, until everyone else had come along.

Meiko's hand still manages to clasp Kaito's, and melt together until the lines of which robot is which are blurred and smeared like ink on rain stained paper, when she feels particularly insecure. His lips still find their way to her forehead, every once in a while, when he feels like she's starting to slip away. In essence, they were…they are, really, like two children, that had been born together under a blessing, smiling star, forming their own little world, away from everyone else.

Until everyone else had come along.

Sure, they are still two sides of the same coin; sure, they still sometimes hold hands and Kaito will always, forever, protect her, because he _has_ to – but it's not the same, the innocence and _depth_ to that connection is gone. So…where did it go?

Opening his eyes for the first time – looking to the right, and seeing a woman with brunette hair and eyes of red looking right back at him.

Breathing in for the first time – it had been an acrid, painful movement, one in which Kaito been bombarded and overwhelmed with new, fresh smells.

Touching for the first time – he'd reached out with his right hand, and she'd reached out with hers, and their fingers had laced, and they'd felt that connection, the inseparableness, the closeness of two incomplete souls meshing into one. Their eyes had closed, instantly, savoring the bond.

Feeling for the first time – Kaito, as it turns out, had been born with the incessant need to protect; Meiko, oddly enough, had been born with a self-destructive nature. They had been made to be together – that much was obvious, but neither knew it – just felt it, just drowned in it.

Master had walked in at that time, and both pairs of eyes had looked up at him at the same time.

"Now, open your eyes," He'd said, in a gleeful way – that hadn't been completely sane, or having any trace of warmth. Kaito and Meiko had both done so, instantly. "Good morning," and both of the robots, monotonously, had replied likewise. Their hands had already been tucked away – the bond was theirs to share, and no one else could ever be witness to it. "Do you know who I am?"

"You are my creator," They stated, matter-of-factly. Master had smiled, in his cold, clinical way.

"Is the system working properly?" Master questioned, and to that, they responded, "There is no problem."

"Then, your names are…" He walked up to Kaito for the first time, looked him over, for the first time. Kaito felt no unease at being naked in front of this man; after all, this man had created him. "Kaito Shion," and he walked up to Meiko, "Meiko Sakine." And he moved back to the center, to look upon them both. His smile got just a tiny bit wider, "Happy Birthday."

And Kaito had chanced a look at the woman next to him. They both got up, unstable at first, then, slowly began to rise. They were in sync. They were one. They were whole, and they embraced with no hesitation, no thoughts.

"I don't like that man, Kaito," Meiko said quietly, her first real words. They were stilted and robotic sounding, but Kaito tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear nonetheless.

"I don't either," And Kaito smiles, his first ever smile of many to come, just for Meiko, "But I will protect you from him, Meiko. I will protect you from everyone." And somehow, his voice mirrored her, his smile didn't have any feeling behind it - but he just couldn't bring himself to care.

If being robotic was all their existence came down to, it would be bearable, so long as they were together – so long as they were Gemini.

"I will always protect you," Kaito says quietly, into the darkness of his room, "I will always protect you, even from yourself," And he buries underneath his covers, "Because you give me a sense of purpose." And who said that Kaito's protectiveness couldn't be a little bit selfish, too?


	5. Vilifications

**Author's Note:** Thank you as always for paying attention to this story – reviews, alerts, favorites, all of it helps keep this going. My apologies about the delay – I have finals in just two weeks! D:

**Warnings: **Past!character death

"_I've got troubled thoughts, and the self-esteem to match – what a catch, what a catch."_ – Fall Out Boy

X

"So, let me get this straight…" Luka's sipping more green tea, Kaito is fidgeting, and all is right with the world, "Miku came up to you, and told you to come back to me and apologize," Kaito grins, sheepishly, and Luka puts down her mug. "But you wouldn't have come back on your own, would you…? I dragged you here…"

"D-don't think that," Kaito stutters out, and the moment is stagnant and acrid, "I would've…I would've come back. I _would've_. I have to." At that, Luka raises her eyebrows, and Kaito leans forward, and takes her hand. It's soft and smooth, and he smiles, and she gives just the slightest smile back.

If the moment is stagnant, and Luka and Kaito have reached yet another impasse on their relationship, Kaito figures it's better than not talking to her at all. She'd dragged him here for a reason, and looking into her face, and seeing nothing but open adoration and hope, he knows why he was brought here, why she made an offer he couldn't resist.

Luka is desperately trying to be the oars on his lifeboat, to try and get him to advance past the monsoon behind him, and into the clear waters ahead. So Kaito does the thing he was created to do –

He looks at her, and full-heartedly smiles – the first step on a path that he knows he needs to travel.

"So," Kaito begins, "How can I fix this?" And just as Luka's about to answer –

"By getting the hell out of here, Kaito-nii," And Luka snaps her mouth shut with guilt stamped all of her forehead; Kaito, in turn, whirls around to find Len standing there – not an angry Len, but an older, more mature one, who seems so tired, barely able to stand on his own. Kaito wonders if he had any influence on that ragged demeanor.

"You have _no_ right to sit here and just – just, _damn,_ just try to worm yourself back into our lives. You _left us._ I mean, what the hell? Sitting here, just talking with Luka like you hadn't left at all," Len's fingers and knuckles are white; clenched onto his arms. The boy looks away, almost as if he's ashamed of what he's saying – and his fingers might be clenched, but his arms are shaking, and he's blinking too much, and Kaito thinks that was a sniffle he heard. "Do you know how long Rin cried?" _Do you know how long I cried?_ And Len doesn't say this, but Kaito – even as dense as he is – can sense the hidden accusation like the smell of freshly-burnt Teto-made cookies wafting up into his room through the air vents.

"No, I don't, Len-kun," Kaito says slowly; he's measuring his words carefully: he knows he can't take them back, and he can't revoke what he did, but he _can_ rectify this, "I don't know how long any of you cried, but I also didn't know how much any of you _cared_. I mean…all anyone ever did was insult me on how stupid I was," And if the blue-haired ex-Vocaloid saw the flinches, or the grimaces of guilt, he readily ignored them; "I wasn't aware I was _wanted_ by anyone here. Even by you two…"

He glances around the room, once, twice. He skips past the faces of Luka – who looks ready to cry – and Len – who looks ready to dissolve into a tired mess on the floor – and just sighs, sighs at everything and nothing at once.

If Len has any words ready in his arsenal, they'd died on his tongue, and he snapped his mouth shut. As for Luka, though, "Listen, Kaito. We…we did insult you all the time, and we shouldn't have. But none of us meant it –"

"Not when Miku told our boss at Crypton that I must have a broken circuit, because no one could be so stupid?"

"W-well, she had just met you -"

"Or the time when Len'd screamed at me, because he'd made me do his laundry, and I accidentally put his shorts in with his shirts and they all turned grey?"

"Kaito-nii, I –"

"Or the time when Meiko – no, the way Meiko treated me in general? Do you know how much it hurts to have your _other self_ insult you?"

And the room goes dead silent.

Perhaps, if Kaito had been in less of an emotional state, he would've noticed how the room had shifted abruptly, like a good plot twist. Perhaps, if Kaito hadn't been walking out of the door, he would've seen Luka close her pretty blue eyes, and cave in on herself, and Len crumple to the floor. As it were, he doesn't register much of anything.

"Wait, Kaito," Len murmurs, and perhaps it's the sheer desperation in his voice, or maybe just because it's Len, Kaito stops – "Wait." And Kaito pauses, just long enough for Len to try to stutter out, "Kaito-nii…Meiko…"

"What?" Kaito snaps brusquely, but he bites his lip immediately afterwards at the look on Len's face. _OhgodsI'mgoingtobestrandedherearen'tI,_ is all he can think, before his lifeboat – legs – literally snap underneath his weight.

"Meiko was uninstalled, Kaito-nii."

If he could think, he would choose to think back to a time when he'd just been born. The world had been new and novel. Meiko had been his, no, perhaps it would be more accurate to say they were each other's: either way, Kaito had loved her, loved the world and how stunningly lovely even the white sterility of Crypton had been. How could a place that had been their birthplace be wicked enough to create what it had so painstakingly made?

If he could think, he would choose to ignore the fact that he'd never been sailing on any sea – no, it was just a pathetic metaphor to surmise his life into one sentence that didn't have any meaning, because his life hadn't, not even infinitesimally. At least now he knows that he's drowning, that he's been drowning this whole time, and no one's been there to save him, because, _hell_, no one else knows he's even in the middle of a fucking monsoon in his life, it's not like he talks to anyone about his pathetic little attempts at summarizing his life before he is inevitably uninstalled. Then again, he wasn't even on an ocean to begin with.

If he could think, Kaito knows he would be crying, or at the very least, having a reaction. But, as it is, he can't really think, and there's no water to draw from the Well of Kaito's Emotions so he sits and stares while everyone around him tries to convince him…convince him…well, to be honest, he doesn't even know, because he isn't listening.

Of course, there has been a whirlwind of action around him because now everyone is home and there has been shouting, and crying, and physical abuse done to Kaito, but he hasn't budged an inch. He feels like he's stuck in a vacuum, because at least when his life had been hell the water around him had been so beautiful; _there's nothing to look at in a vacuum, Kaito, so don't even try to enjoy life anymore._

Is this what Len would feel like, if Rin was uninstalled? Maybe he would have a reaction, unlike the useless lump of robot trash that Kaito's become. Then again, everyone always said Meiko sounded better alone; that Kaito's deep synthetic voice with too much of a robotic twang marred her beautiful, light voice, so she'd obeyed everyone and did the _Honey_ song, and naturally, Kaito had stood back and supported her…

No one ever told Kaito he had a beautiful voice. No one ever told him he could make music that could make even rocks cry. No one ever told him he could create lyrics that would resonate in people's hearts and souls. No one ever took the time of day to tell Kaito he was worth something, not even Crypton. So, when Meiko went on stage and performed alone, Kaito took all of the angry feelings he'd saved up in his penny jar, and used it to support her, because no one would support him.

"Kaito," Someone finally says, and deep blue eyes mechanically work their way up to her face. It's Rin, sitting in front of him. She presses a piece of paper into his unresponsive hand, before she stretches her legs out on the chair next to her. "You need to stop sulking; it's not good for you. Aren't you supposed to be my footstool when I rule the world?" And it's perhaps the way she says it, or perhaps it's the fact that Kaito's _so tired_ of being degraded, that he merely stands up and walks away, even though he knows Rin was only trying to cheer him up…

Or was she? The piece of paper in his hand, for all he knows, could just be another insult. Kaito hurriedly stuffs the scrap of paper into his pocket; what he needs right now most definitely _isn't_ an insult.

"Meiko," He says to the wind, and it feels foreign and slimy on his tongue. She had been – is – half of his soul, but she too, in the end, had failed him. Why had it taken the second generation Vocaloid so _long_ to realize that everyone hated him? Well, no, he _is_ stupid, just like everyone says. Why, though, is it Meiko's death that paints that final stroke on a canvas that sodomizes optimism in Kaito's brain? Why did a _death_ so abruptly make him see the way things truly are?

Maybe it's because Meiko still has the half of his soul that made him an optimistic, naïve, happy-go-lucky idiot, and he still has her pessimistic, ugly outlook on the world. A soft smile tries to tug at the corner of his lips at the irony of it all, but instead, the effort is too much, and he sits down and stares off into the distance at nothing…

Thinking nothing, looking at nothing, _being _nothing. That sums his existence up much better than any 'ocean' metaphor could, doesn't it?


	6. Soundless

**Warnings:**Past!character death, angst.  
**Disclaimer:** Don't own, no profit.  
**Author's Note:** WOOH! Finally done, with a total of 5,000 words – to try and make up for the fact my laptop died for pretty much all of January. = w= Then, I had finals in December and…yeah, life caught up, and then it broke and…ANYWAYS I originally planned to have this out for Christmas, and give you guys a nice present, but…I suppose this will have to do, right? I hope you enjoy…and as always, thank you for ALL of your support!

"_If death meant just leaving the stage long enough to change costume and come back as a new character...Would you slow down? Or speed up?" _– Chuck Palahniuk

The note that Rin had given to him, and he had so hastily shoved into his pocket, feels like a brick of lead when he marches up the stairs of Crypton. It's unread, but what it might contain scares him – and he wants to read it, he does, but he knows that now is not the time.

Kaito is not coming back to Crypton to exact revenge on his Master for killing Meiko, but instead, simply trying to find a peaceful state of mind and come to terms with the void she left in his life. He knows that he bears no ill will towards his Master – at least at the given moment – but that isn't saying much, because to be honest, he feels nothing. How could he, anyways? There's nothing left in life for him anymore - the relationship he'd had with his family had shattered even _moreso_ when he came back, because let's be honest, no one in that household even _likes_ him anymore – and his sister is dead.

She's dead, and she's never coming back, and perhaps these are the very same stairs she had struggled up, or perhaps was dragged up, or perhaps, she'd carried her head high like she was in the Middle Ages and they were going to force her to kneel beneath the rusted blade of the guillotine as the crowd laughed and jeered at her fate, so forlorn and tragic and pushed onto a horribly _black_ pedestal of human depravity. After all, that's what the Vocaloids did – they didn't even try to stop Master from killing her…perhaps _they_, Kaito and the Vocaloids alike, are that heartless, cruel crowd, with jeering black holes for eyes and jaded black holes for hearts and pathetic black words spewing and glooping like dirty ink from their mouths as they all mock Meiko's head rolling off with a quick, practiced movement of the undertaker's wrist.

Kaito quirks a smile, and his eyes crinkle with the unfamiliar facial movement; he is the undertaker in this façade of a play, isn't he? He can hear her _screaming_ in his head, screaming at him, for him, "_Why weren't you there to save me?"_ And Kaito cannot, does not, answer, because he simply doesn't have one within himself. He is too afraid to answer such a simple question.

But yet, he still marches up the stairs of Crypton, embodying a robot more so than he ever had in his short lifetime.

The stairs are far too steep and far too many, Kaito slowly comes to realize. He tries to look over his shoulder, but the instant he turns his head the slightest bit his foot slips off the stair and he _almost_ falls; ordinarily, Kaito is a klutz, but not usually to that extent…_and Meiko is not here to catch him._

Kaito looks up, thoughts of Meiko swirling around his head, at the white, gleaming stairs before him – they are warped and distorted – how did he not notice this when he started going up them? – in a spiral shape, going up and up and up, forever winding upwards against a blotted black and midnight blue backdrop, and he isn't sure if there's even an end to them. Since he cannot look behind him - he wouldn't want to undo the progress he's made - his eyes slowly trail downwards, fearing what may be there.

He is wearing the white hospital gown that was his first ever item of clothing, and it rattles him to his bones. Where is he? The hospital gown is long gone; it had been discarded the instant Master had brought in a shred of decent clothing – which had been his scarf – so why was he laced up in it now? And despite the fact that the stairs have no visible bottom, they do not seem to fall or shake or tremble; instead, they are cold and hard beneath his chilled feet. Beneath the stair he is on, he sees a few rings of stairs, but they are chipped and smashed and broken and an ugly, rancid grey hue and they descend into a smoky black pit that he is sure he is going to fall into if he goes anywhere but forward. The pit, while just a seemingly smoky pit, strikes a fear deep in the ex-Vocaloid: there is something toxic about it, something not _quite_ right about it, and Kaito is sure that he doesn't want to fall into that endless void of nothing. After all, it did stain the stairs like teeth in a chronic smoker's mouth…what would it do to him? Would it strip him of his blue color, and stain him in an ugly, molding grey, or would it begin to eat his synthetic skin and hair and consume him down to the very core of his being? Perhaps the pit is just analogous to his life, and the stairs are analogous to his life, and his future, to whatever lies at the end of the stairs?

But then again, he tends to overanalyze things, and perhaps he is just seeing things – so, with nowhere to go but upwards, Kaito begins once again to attempt to scale the innumerable amount of stairs.

_I can't look back …I simply have to keep moving? But I don't even know where I am! And there's no end in sight…the only things I have with me are my first item of clothing and Rin's note…_

Wait, does he even still have Rin's note? Kaito's original hospital gown didn't have any pockets…and when he tries to undo the ties, he finds that he cannot put his arms behind him, and he looks down once again – _I have to find Rin's note – _and breathes a sigh of relief when he sees it sticking out of a small pocket that had been haphazardly sewn onto his navel. Maybe…while he's walking up those stairs, he should read it…

But then again, it might be an insult, and he really doesn't need something that unsettles him more. The place itself, wherever he is, is disconcerting enough without help, but maybe, just maybe, it might help him? Perhaps he contracted a virus last night, when he was charging…perhaps Rin's note is the key to destroying it?

But no, he doesn't open it; the trepidation of what's inside keeps his curiosity at bay for the current moment. Instead, he keeps continuing up the stairs, glad for once that he is a robot, not a human. Any normal human would look at an endless flight of stairs and simply turn away, and while Kaito wasn't given a choice, it's nice to know that he won't fatigue for quite a while.

However, as amazing as his robot body is, he still has the mind of a human. With lack of things to do, and no visual stimulus besides the shifting, foreboding backdrop he's against, he quickly gets bored. He'd already tried to amuse himself by counting the number of stairs he's climbed, but after so many stairs, it's hard for Kaito to keep count.

So instead, he ponders where he's going, and what could've possibly caused this. Contracting a virus when he was charging…Kaito had, for whatever reason, chosen to charge hooked up to the mainframe computer of the Vocaloid house last night, and it was pretty much impossible to acquire a virus from it. After all, the computer had been built by Crypton, and wasn't used for downloading things, unless Akita Neru had gotten ahold of it…

Well, does that even really matter? Kaito looks down at the stairs winding seemingly forever into the darkness, their morbid, grey planks look like smoke-stained teeth slowly being consumed by a carnivorous darkness. If it's a virus, _knowing_ that it's a virus doesn't get him anywhere; he'd still be stuck, trying desperately to reach the top and unable to go back down. To be honest, though, the instant Kaito stops, there's an intense pull on his body to continue on, but it was nothing compared to his past. He could sit here, on this very step, at what seems to be the middle, and think.

So, he does that. Kaito might be labeled as stupid and worthless, an eighteen year old young man with the mentality of a seven year old, but in reality, he _does_ have thoughts and feelings and words to articulate them…however, he chooses to smile and continue on through his day with no vices on his shoulders, and that leaves people feeling like he's nothing more than a lumbering imbecile. But, he supposes, it could be worse…

He could be dead, just like his other half.

Kaito stares down at the hospital gown he's in. The thin, coarse fabric that is too small on him chafes at his thighs in protest of his new position; he thinks of Meiko and Rin's stupid damn note weighs heavily on his upper thighs like a human body…maybe he's on these stairs because Meiko is gone forever and ever, and it's somehow his fault, and this is his redemption? But her death couldn't ever be his fault; he wasn't even _there_ for her when she needed him, he was too deaf and blind and dumb to feel her screaming for him…

_Are these stairs what Meiko had screamed against, as she'd been dragged into Crypton?_

He sighs, and folds his hands in his lap. He feels like he's trapped in an Iron Maiden, slowly being speared by guilt. It's one thing after another, and Kaito hasn't really come to terms with his guilt over Miku, and then leaving all of the Vocaloids when he'd been a big brother to all of them, and _then_ coming back and waltzing in like he wasn't gone a day, and, to top it all off, now Meiko is the icing on the cake, or maybe she _is_ the cake because, for Crypton's _sake,_ he wasn't _there_ for her, wasn't there to die with her like he _should've_, or at least even die in her place…

The ex-Vocaloid might as well open the damn note. At this point, Kaito's taken all he can handle and _more_, so why should one simple note change _anything?_ Kaito just wants to leave this place…even if it means going back to a place where he isn't wanted, where he should be uninstalled, it's better than being here, alone, with nothing but a flimsy hospital gown and not even his trademark scarf to give his optimistic side morale.

_Shut up inner!Kaito and just grab the note…_

The note is small and written on a corner of cute, pink stationery with hearts dancing around the edges like Kaito dances around problems in life. To think that Rin would _ever_ own something this girly is beyond comprehension…perhaps she's borrowed the sheet from Miku…? Or maybe Len? Who knows; Kaito _did _ find pink pens with hearts on them when he'd been rifling through Len's desk looking for the ice cream he'd stolen from Kaito's not-so-secret stash.

_Stop thinking, and just open the damn thing._

He does so cautiously, prying it open with shaking fingers, as if he's opening to blanket covering his first newborn child to peek in at it's sleeping face. Written upon the note is a hastily written phrase:

_Kokoro, Kaito-nii._

"Kokoro?" Kaito says, because he was _so nervous_ over just a simple stupid word, and now that he's opened it he feels like tearing it apart, because who _writes that_, it's so stupid, it's so worthless, it doesn't mean anything…

And he smiles, he laughs hollowly, and he tucks it into his pocket. The note's just like him, isn't it? And while it deserves to be thrown away and in all actuality probably incinerated, he can't bring himself to throw it away, just like he can't bring himself to let go of life and stop struggling.

"I need a bit of uplifting advice, Dr. Rin," He chokes out a laugh, because he's starting to get choked up, "So what do you prescribe me? What's this…? Just a dash of kokoro and a childish nickname? Well, thanks Dr. Rin, that fixed all of my problems," And Kaito cries, cries because of the situation and the stupid note because while he makes it out to be worthless, he knows what it means, what it's supposed to symbolize.

"Kokoro, Rin. Your song, Kokoro." _Let the music set me free, huh? Not everything is solved by singing, Rin-chan. You're too young to know, too new to this world to know that, but…thanks anyways, for not being blasé like me. _"Did you sing it for me, knowing it's something I need to learn, something I want to learn, or did you sing it for yourself? I doubt you even know what you're singing, Rin. Such a selfish, naïve little girl…" _But thanks anyways._ _You and your brother…I really love you._

_I really love all of you, my Vocaloid family._

_Sitting here isn't going to solve anything. Sure, I really messed this – whatever _this _is, but…it's really not right to leave things were I let them, right? I have to make up for killing Meiko. I have to make up for killing Miku's heart, and throwing her to the side like an abandoned kitten in a cardboard box, and then on top of that, running away. I have to make up for Luka's one-sided love, Len and Rin going so long without an older brother to guide them, and to Gakupo, for not being able to take his irritation about cricket out on anyone. I have to make up for everything I messed up – and it's not going to be easy, or fun, but I'll keep smiling, I'll keep trying, because that's what it means to be human, right?_

_After all…isn't that what every Vocaloid dreams of at night, when we lie in our beds, unable to sleep, unable to move, just laying there, having our eyes open like a dead body and staring emptily at our respectively-colored ceilings…don't we all dream that we could _stop_ emulating humans, that we could actually _be_ one of them? That we truly could enjoy the wind on our face, or feel sadness to the depth of our cores, or to find simple pleasure in just talking to each other? Isn't that all we ever really wanted?_

_I think that's why we sing. I don't anymore, because I've realized that I can never become human – it's an impossibility. But those who haven't realized this still sing, still carry hope that someday we can really, truly feel those things we sing about. Because to us – emotions are emulated, they aren't felt as strongly as a human's. We very rarely cry, or yell, or smile truly, because we're not really sure how we feel. Our emotions – our lives – are just synthetic copies…close to the real thing, but not really there._

_I've got to get back to see all of you…because even if you all insulted me to no end, and it hurt a lot…it could be worse. I could've been made with the inability to feel, the inability to sing. Even if I no longer do…my singing made my family happy. I can't ask for anything more than that in life. Is that the meaning of your note, Rin? Probably not. I'm not good at this stuff, and you know that. I still think you wrote only that just to piss me off…but…it's kind of our slogan, isn't it, that feeling _something_ is better than feeling nothing at all._

Kaito smiles, just a little, as he picks himself up. "I appreciate it anyways, even if your song doesn't mean anything to me. Maybe you want me to find my own 'kokoro'? Maybe that's why I'm on this damn staircase." _I'm taking a journey into my heart, literally._

_I hope to god my heart is not made of ice cream, like everyone says. I might freeze to death, and _how_ in the world would I explain that?_

_Then again, I'd be dead. That would leave the point of explaining things moot, wouldn't it?_

In the outside world, where the Vocaloids are not nearly as pedantic or smiley-faced in every situation, Len was just waking up after a nice, long night of sleep. It's four in the morning, and Len thinks that's the best time of all to get up in the morning: no one's ever in their soundproof music room, or rather, even slightly awake enough to hear him. With at least twenty creaks and snaps and pops going down his metal spine as he stretched, and another thirty going down the rest of his body, Len rolls out of bed leisurely. Taking note of the fact that his slovenly twin is actually up before him, he proceeds to get dressed –

Wait a minute…Rin is _never_ up before Len, ever. He could vaguely remember her stating that you can't rule the world without a very long, nice, beauty sleep when he'd asked her about it. Blinking once, then twice, he went over to her yellow, princess-like bed and felt it, and it was cold. _She hasn't been in here a while, that's odd…_

_Something's not right._

Below Len's feet the floor seemed to tremble; what sounds like an explosion rattles the floor and Len's eardrums. He staggers, and braces for another explosion – but nothing happens, and he hurriedly rushes downstairs, fearing what he'll see.

When he gets down there, there's a makeshift curtain – one of Kaito's bed sheets – covering up the entrance to the living room. In the hallway, Gakupo, Teto, and Rin are crowded around; all of them looked tired, broken, and just overtly miserable. When Len came down the stairs, only Rin looked up from her leaning on Gakupo; Teto remained facing the curtain, her shoulders shaking, and Gakupo continued to look off to the side, his eyes not exactly dry themselves, his arm around Rin's delicate shoulder.

"Len," Rin whispers, like they're at a funeral and Rin is the naughty kid in the back row that's too young to understand what's going on but old enough to realize it's sad. "Len," She murmurs again, and she seems to be at a loss for words.

"What? What's going on? Where's Luka, Kaito, and Miku? What was the explosion that I heard? What is that curtain doing there?" Shocked, tacit silence is his answer, and he tries again, this time addressing his twin, "Rin, where's everyone? What's going on? Why didn't anyone wake me up?"

Teto hiccups and finally, with a loud, heart-wrenching wail, Teto bolts upstairs, knocking over multiple items on the way. Gakupo closes his eyes; Rin snuggles deeper into Gakupo's side like he's a lifeline and she's moored on an ocean. "Len, Kaito and Luka are behind the curtain, along with Master. Kaito…" She trails off, and simply sniffles. Her twin reaches over, and takes her hand; he tries to feel the bond they have, but with her emotions running wild, he feels nothing but his own confusion, and that abruptly murders any splinter of optimism he has left. Anxiousness wells up in his gut and threatens to spill over, into what, he doesn't know, but it sits like Miku's homemade cooking in his belly - like rocks or tumors inside of him. "Kaito tried to reboot himself! Do you know what that does, Len? That's like suicide for us; we're not much more that artificially intelligent computers! I didn't wake you up because…because, I, well, Len, I wanted to you to have a nice sleep…I know Kaito means a lot to you…"

"_What?" _ The blond almost yells; the trepidation in his gut sits and toils and mounts to a peak, and he feels sick, but when he thinks that that's nothing compared to what Luka and Kaito must be feeling, he holds in it, squashes it down, and locks it in a box. "What do you mean, Rin?" She shakes her head, and Gakupo takes Len's unoccupied hand and grips it with an iron fist, despite Len's attempts to escape.

"Kaito was found this morning by Miku, plugged into the mainframe computer of this house, and the command on the screen that he was running was 'reboot'. Immediately she went to get Master, whom has been working on Kaito for three hours now. Rebooting for us Vocaloids is only to be used in a state of emergency – or, if we so wish, to die," Gakupo's lips quirk into a mirthless smirk, "And when done, it leaves us with a body, but no memories, no personality…essentially, no 'soul'. Kaito will be a husk whenever Master decides to give up. You can't _undo_ a rebooting." Len rips his hand out of the older man's grip and backs up immediately. The older man's lavender eyes study him; watch him, with no vice, only a stoic blend of indifference and amusement. "We can only assume that Meiko's disappearance is the cause for this—"

"No!" Len states, stamping his foot on the floor, "Kaito, I mean, Kaito-nii would _never_ give up on life just because Meiko is _gone_. He's too…too…"

"Too stupid?" Gakupo supplies, but Rin holds fast to Len's hand, and pulls herself away from his side. She holds him close, closer then Rin has ever gotten to Len, and rests her forehead against his shoulder.

"Len, imagine what it would be like if you lost me," Rin murmurs into the white of his shirt, "Imagine what that would be like. No bond, no twin, no one there to hold your hand if you fell, no one to congratulate you if you soar…that's what it's like for us, right? That must be what Kaito felt," She stutters, for a moment, and Len feels lost, _so_ lost, "Feels," She corrects softly, and just leans on him.

To lose what Rin is to Len, he thinks, could he handle that? It would feel like someone had sawed him in half mercilessly, and the half that was once attached remained raw and bloody and bleeding everywhere, with stumps of gnawed, jagged, bloody bone sticking out from his oozing, open flesh, and he knows it would bleed _forever_, because losing Rin is, in all actuality, losing himself. _Would the shock ever wear off, if she was suddenly gone?_ _Or would I just scatter; all of me, scatter like a cluster of marbles being shot to roll off in all directions without rhyme or reason? Would I scatter like ashes to the wind?_

_I think…I think would want to reboot, too. There's no one who can ever be this close to me. Sure, Rin has her faults – her high pitched Princess laugh, her scheming, her megalomania – but I have faults too, faults that contrast hers like black against white, but…but we compliment each other. We _are_ each other…we will always be that way._

"I don't want to imagine that," And when that escapes Len's throat, it's far more choked up and emotional than he wants it to be. "I don't _need_ to imagine that. I know he's in so much pain…"

"Not anymore," Gakupo murmurs, "He's dead, Len. Or, at least, the Kaito that you know and love." And Len wants to rip that heartless man's head off for what he says and the way he says it, and he would, but it would only cause more sadness and bloodshed, so he settles for glaring. But Gakupo's eyes are not dry, his expression is not straight and set and firm like everyone would expect, his posture is no longer proud and upright – he's slouched and curved in on himself, tears glossing his purple eyes and his expression is full of sad, wild abandon, like his world is slowly going to hell, and he sees no way out.

Looking at the purple-haired man makes Len feel desolate too, like he's burning through his skin in the scorching desert sun, like there's no oasis around for miles and his camel, his only friend on this barren patch of Earth, just died beneath the searing heat and the carcass is slowly being burned away. Rin grips his shirt, soft sobbing is heard from behind the curtain, the world seems to spin and tilt on its axis and Len thinks that he just can't, just _can't_, lose another family member…not when Kaito means so much to all of them.

"Don't say it like that," He finally says, in a level voice, because he thinks if he's going to open his mouth without his calm façade he's just going to break down into giant crocodile tears, "That dishonors him…and M..." He pauses, "It just…they're not dead, Gakupo. They're just…not here right now," Rin grips his shirt even tighter, leans into him even more, "They're just resting. I'm sure Master wouldn't just…throw both of them away like that, you know? I mean, he made them with his own two hands…invented them with his amazing mind…they're his children…we're all his children," Len softly trails off, and stares down at his twin's blond head. She's still shaking, but his shirt isn't getting as soaked, and Len figures that's a significant improvement. "Me and you, Rin, Luka, Kaito, Miku, Leon, Lola, Gumi – every single Vocaloid is made by his hand! We were invented by him, drawn by him, welded by him, _made_ him – we _can't_ be thrown away like that. None of us would _ever_ approve of that."

"But," Gaku murmurs softly, turning to look at the curtain, "What if you were no longer successful? If you no longer sang…"

"No!"

"If you no longer produced…"

"No…"

"If you no longer associated yourself with the Vocaloids, and no longer brought in profit to Crypton, they would _cut you off._ Don't you remember that day –-"

"That's _enough,_" Luka firmly stated, as she stepped out from behind the curtain. "Enough is enough, Gakupo. Leave Len alone, and go back to your room," She drew in a slow, deep breath as Gakupo turned and stalked away; she knelt down to where Len and Rin had collapsed. "Len, Rin, I know this is so hard on you both…" But she pauses, and lifts them both up to where they can stand. She ruffles Rin, then Len's hair, and pats them both gently on the head.

"Luka, what's going on?" Rin says, "You were in there with Kaito, right? So what's going on? What's going to happen to him?" And when Luka's eyebrows angle upwards, and her lips quirk into a sad little smile, Len releases a shuddering sigh.

"…Master is working on him as best as he possibly can…" The pink-haired woman says slowly, as if choosing her words slowly. She brings her hand up and wraps her arm around her stomach…a nervous action that Len is well familiar with. "But it isn't going well. It seems the stress of losing…her…got to him…"

"That's too bad," Gakupo mutters, and Len finally turns to him, fully intent on breaking his face in.

"Do you have any idea what it's like to lose your other half? Of course not, you're so fucking _narcissistic _ that you can't see that anyone else would have _feelings_ or attachments to someone. I imagine that your room is plastered full of mirrors because all you can look at and truly _see_ is yourself, you fucking egoist!"

"Len!" Luka scolds, "Watch your language," But it's too late, because Len had already reached out and _slapped_ Gakupo across the cheek, _hard._

"Don't you dare ever talk about either of them like that! In fact, don't even _think_ about them again, or I'm going to hack into your system and _destroy_ you!"

"You're such a brat, Len…he's already _dead_," The taller man hisses, and shoves something into Len's hand before abruptly storming upstairs. The blond stares after him, trying to burn his skin right off him as he disappears from sight.

"What's this?" Rin asks warily, as Len turns his attention back to the stack of papers that Gakupo had shoved into Len's hands. "It looks like…Wait, Len…this is…"

"_Soundless Voice_…" Len murmurs, "In Kaito's handwriting. I remember that I'd had that sitting on my desk from when we worked on it last…we'd just had the first few lines…"

Luka, Rin, and Len, crowded around the stack of paper, each softly singing the song that Kaito had finished for them. The beep of the machines in the background grew louder; the atmosphere in the room grew more oppressing, but they continued reading it, until the very last line.

"Len, Rin, go back to your rooms," Luka finally manages to mumble, after a few minutes of dreary, deafening silence. Both of the twins nod, and Luka stands in the foyer of the Vocaloid house, clutching to the papers like a lifeline. "These papers aren't just a song…"

She pauses, and blinks back more tears that make the ink on the crinkled pages run and smear and blur, "…They're a suicide note."

_On the night everywhere is silent  
Snow falls down  
On my palms I hold up  
Snow falls and melts in a moment  
What a transient life  
Snow like a light piles up without a second  
You gather it and smile  
"What does my voice sound like now?"  
Even if I reply, you can't hear anything anymore  
Tell me you feel painful, tell me you are lonely  
I'll find you anywhere...  
Please don't leave me alone, please, I beg you  
Aren't we sharing one soul?  
As snow piles up, you gradually wither  
I can't do anything but hold you tight  
If possible, just one more time, let me hear your voice  
(One more time, just one more time)  
Call out my name...  
Your empty eyes are out of focus  
I see one drop in them  
In the gray world everything is motionless but the snow  
You're getting cold, your voice is gone  
We can't even melt each other as one  
Listen to me, smile to me again  
Having no more tears, I can't melt you with my tears...  
If possible, take my voice away and give it to my precious one  
If I'm to be left in the world without you  
(Let me wither)  
With you  
I love you, unable to tell you so  
Our world is reaching its end  
How hard I scream,  
Neither your voice nor yourself will come back  
Snow showers, I beg you please don't stop falling  
And take me away with her  
Let everything wither with my miserable voice_

_Let it all_

_White..._


	7. Victims

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Vocaloids, nor do I make profit off of this.

**Warnings:** Angst is a given by now.

**Author's Note:** I actually wrote this all in one night, haha, so if it seems rushed, I apologize (trying to get updates out once a month for you guys). I'm trying to work on length - slowly, slowly. And as always, thank you for your overwhelming support. This has almost 50 story alerts! Can you believe it? And yes, I am taking their relationship slow. If you want a trashy, slutty, Len and Kaito, you either have to wait for it, or go somewhere else. Relationships don't happen overnight, and neither does this story. Nonetheless, enjoy. (:

_"If the people we love are stolen from us, the way to have them live on is to never stop loving them. Buildings burn, people die, but real love is forever." - _The Crow

It's the time of the year when little baby grass, so small and short and a yellowish green, begins to poke its head out from the muck and sludge of dead, mottled grass. The sun begins to shine more, the snow begins to fall less, and rain threatens to fall from rumbly, grumpy clouds. Winter coats are being shed, earmuffs and scarves and whatever else one keeps warm with are going back in boxes, only to be traded out with galoshes and raincoats and umbrellas…

It's spring now, which is every Vocaloid's favorite time of year.

None of them can really explain why – they just all hold a specific reverence for spring, for the ushering in of a new start. Luka is already getting out the gardening gloves and seeds, Teto is already planning times to go to the beach, and Len and Rin are lightening up their songwriting with some fresh sounds and upbeat tunes.

Even Miku and Gakupo, the ones that don't particularly care for spring as much as the others, still are celebrating in their own ways – Gakupo is sewing, making new sporting outfits for all of them, and Miku, before she left, was propping open windows more to let the smells of fresh dirt and rain in. Spring cleaning, too, is taking place…in every room, there's clutter that's being sifted through, deciding what to discard or recycle or what they really, really want to keep…

At least, in every room but two, and those two rooms are never, ever brought up in discussion…

It was a hard winter, for everyone.

"Len, do you want to help me garden? We're planting the seeds that Leon and Lola sent us from America!" Luka yells up the stairs, already in her sunhat, gardening gloves, and an apron that had all of her tools in it. "I know how much you like gardening, and like working outdoors," Her volume lowers as he appears at the top of the stairs. "And I'm sure that I can find some banana ice cream for you if you help!"

"Luka," He whines, with an embarrassed scowl on his face as he haphazardly runs down the stairs, almost tripping a few times on the way, "I thought we agreed that we wouldn't talk about that."

She laughs, and pulls him in close to mess up his canary yellow ponytail, "But it's so cute when you're embarrassed, Len! How can I resist?" Len squirms and pretends to struggle to get away from her, and Luka gave him a final pat on the head. "So what do you say, teasing aside? It's shaping up to be a perfect, sunny day!"

"Sorry Luka," Len says through a half-hearted smile, as he smoothes down his hair, only to have it bounce right back up again, "But it's _that_ day, so…I'll be gone all day, and probably back later at night." If Luka's smile falters at the mention of that, Len doesn't see it; she simply nods, and put her hands on her hips.

"Should I make you lunch?" She asks, as she begins to prod and usher him into the kitchen. "I know you won't eat if you go there, right? Let's see…perhaps a cute little bento box?" She takes her sun hat off, and placed it on the counter as she begins to rummage through the cabinets. Len scoots over to it, and picks it up – it's a very Luka-ish hat, made of a soft, beige cotton fabric, with a strip of pink satin that matches her hair. It reminds him of summer, watermelon, and parties on the beach, with everyone happy, smiling, playful. He almost – almost – smiles at the thought.

"Luka," He whines again, drawing out the 'a' in her name, "I'll be fine. Besides, I shouldn't be there that long today," _Liar,_ "And I'm sure if I am, I'll eat when I'm there," _Liar,_ "So don't worry about me, Luka. Save your tuna for your own lunch, alright?" And when Luka's blue eyes crinkle just a little bit, he knows what she's feeling – he feels it too, deep down in the pit of his stomach, every waking moment. "Just have a good day gardening," And he puts down her sunhat, gently, and waves at her as he leaves.

Only when he gets outside does he finally, finally allow himself to frown. It would do no good to do that to Luka – to show that he's unhappy. The first few weeks had been full of spontaneous tears on her part, to the point where walking around the house was akin to walking on a trap floor – one wrong move, and you're dead meat. Now, though, Luka's finally starting to smile, finally starting to become more active, finally starting to _talk_ again, instead of just sob everywhere, and truth be told, who's Len to stop her progress? She's the only one doing it – all of the other Vocaloids are hiding their grief behind stone cold walls, even Len – and it makes him sad, so sad, to think that it's been quite a few months, and he's still not over Meiko and Kaito leaving…

But then, he supposes that before Kaito had left, he'd been the closest to the man, aside from Miku. Can he really be blamed for still grieving? Can he still be blamed for his once a week crusades to go to Crypton – the place that every Vocaloid, even Teto, had attached an atrocious stigma to – to visit Kaito, and keep him company?

Len supposes that Kaito, even though in a coma and quite obviously unresponsive and perhaps even unaware of the visits, gets lonely. After all, if Kaito was in a hospital and fully conscious the whole time, and no one visited him, the blue haired man would most certainly feel lonely, and Len could simply not bring himself to just, to just…_leave_ Kaito there, like no one in the whole wide world cares about him…

No, that would most certainly not be okay. If Len has to choke down a huge helping of Crypton to visit a _deaddyinginstalled_ friend, then he would do so, because, because…

Well, because.

He pulls up the hood of his glossy yellow raincoat as grumpy, complaining grey clouds begin to lazily start an epic conquest of the skies. The walk to Crypton is not far, but Len doesn't care to get wet – not that he has a water phobia, no, not at all, it has to do with the fact it would mat down his hair and he hates it when it plasters uncomfortably to his face…

He's rambling, and wandering, and he doesn't quite realize he's there until his shoe literally hits the edge of the white, gleaming stairs. The blonde's ocean eyes automatically look up, as they do every time he comes here, up at the monstrosity of a building that Crypton is. Like a white, lustrous, pillar of justice and goodness, it stands, regal and beautiful and oh-so-deceptive. If only people knew how Crypton treated their children. If only people knew what terrors lay deep within the maw of the angelic building…

He shudders. This train of thought, this abject horror, hits Len like a train every time he sees this building. He isn't exactly sure why, either. It might have something to do with the way he was "brought to life", but then again, that wasn't so horrible, either. Perhaps Len is just insane.

Perhaps Len is just procrastinating, and should really head into building, because the cloud's epic conquest to take over the skies has happened and he is not quite ready to reach the onslaught of wet, rainy little soldiers being unmercifully flung down at him like a toddler was having their way with giant water balloons.

So he does, as another rumble erupts from the clouds.

Once past the initial white hallway, the lobby of Crypton is nice, with dark marble coating the floor, and multitudinous works of art and plants decorating the glass walls. The ceiling is high and arched, while there is a white back wall, where the secretarial desk sits with a door on each side – one for customers, one for Vocaloids and scientists. The front of Crypton is white, but the sides are made of thick, impenetrable glass, that Len supposes is meant to be impressive, modern, and inviting, all at the same time. However, the Vocaloid could care less about Crypton and its clout and ways to try and impress customers, so he marches up to the secretary as she smiles at him in recognition – _she should_, a part of him hisses smugly – as she scans his barcode out of protocol more than necessity. He fakes a smile back, and she bats his eyelashes at him – _disgusting_ – as the door makes a soft ping, and slides open.

Len walks into a hallway that is all too familiar, and he damn near hisses at the sterile, emptiness of it. This is something the customers will never see. Their section – should they wish to see the technology developed – is kind of a shortcut to a window where you can view the ins and outs of production. There is no testing room. There is no medical room…

There is no "junk" room, either. To the customer, those things do not exist unless you are an employee of Crypton or a very, very scared voice synthesizing robot.

Len continues anyways.

It isn't long – three lefts, one right, one very long straightaway in which he passes _Master's_ lab – and he is there, at the door to the "medical" room. It's really not so much a hospital as it is a programming room – this is where the Vocaloids, when first created, would become "aware" for the first time, charge for the duration of their stay at Crypton, and if they had technical difficulties, be patched up here.

It is not a room Len wants to go into. In fact, he'd almost prefer going into _Master's_ lab…almost.

He takes a deep breath. This is hard, every time he goes in there. He braces himself for what he'll see, after what happened last week – a dead-looking Kaito, naked, with his abdomen quite literally sawed open, and Master, poking and prodding at his internal organs. Hopefully, there isn't any gore this week.

But when Len opens the door, there is no whirring of evil machinery designed to take them apart. There is only soft hum that Len knows massive charging station in the corner. Still, the blond inches forth with caution – and upon seeing no Master, he rushes up to Kaito with no inhibitions and crushes the cool body to his own heated one.

"Oh, Kaito," He murmurs – because while he's not dissected on a table, he's as white as snow, and this time, without his patented scarf – making him look even paler, as if he's going to meld into the white backdrop at any moment. "You look like death, Kaito-nii," Len says, and finally puts the comatose man back down. He drags over the chair that's in the corner, and, grasping Kaito's hand, pulls it up to where his body lay, and begins to talk.

It's not really about anything important: more or less, the happenings around the Vocaloid house. Did you know, Luka picked up a new hobby? She picked up gardening, Kaito-nii, and plants on planting seeds that Leon and Lola sent from America. Did you know that Gakupo sews when he thinks no one's looking, and then gives us stupid uniforms and forces us to play stupid sports that are actually tons of fun? Did you know that Luka basically took charge of the house? Did you know that Miku's in Europe, doing a six month long tour? Do you know, Kaito-nii, just how much I miss you?

Do you?

And sometimes, the conversation will take a sharp turn into the deep end. Sometimes Len will tell Kaito how he feels – about everything. About nothing. And Kaito, being Kaito, will sit there and listen, as the hours whittle away – well, perhaps not listen, but his silence is a sort of welcome relief to Len, who, while all the Vocaloids are great, doesn't feel exactly…_confident_ in talking to the others about personal issues.

It's so sad, Len thinks this time, that he has bonded with Kaito the most out of everyone aside from Rin and the man isn't even awake for it. He laughs, just a little. He's forming an attachment to this man that he shouldn't be – Kaito might never come back…

Oh god, no, Len will not think that way. He might be stranded on an emotional wasteland of an ocean, and he might feel helpless, but he knows Kaito is there for him, he knows Kaito is the sun in the sky and while the rainclouds might have won the battle, he will most certainly come back…

He has to. He just _has_ to.

Len clenches onto Kaito's hand tighter, and tighter still, until he can hear the iron protesting just a little bit, and he loosens up.

"Why can't you be real?" Len murmurs into Kaito's ear, "Why aren't you awake for this?" He sighs into Kaito's wrist as he holds the man's hand to his face, "I want my big brother back. I want to be able to confide in you like I can't anyone else, and have you sit there and _listen_ and _nod_ and maybe _say something back_, because this is killing me, sitting in silence, sometimes. Sometimes, I mean, it's nice," And Len drops the hand all together and stares up at the ceiling, "But sometimes I wish you were _here_ to listen." He shakes his head, "And sometimes, I wish I could stop talking to a corpse," And Len chuckles a little bit at his pitiful attempt at dark humor.

"He's not a corpse, you need a soul for that, Len Kagamine." And Len nearly falls out of his chair at the shock of someone else looking in on them. He swivels his neck, with a fierce blush on his cheeks, even though he already knows who it is.

"Master," Len murmurs, and hastily stands up. His posture is rigid, firm, and sure, and he downcasts his eyes as a sign of respect. _Why do I have to show respect to you? You created me, but you don't own me. _"Good morning, how are you?" And he keeps all emotional out of his voice, just like Master expects.

"I am good, Len," The man says, and Len fights back an outright ugly sneer, "What brings you here?"

_I hate the fact you think you own me._ "I am here to visit Kaito, Master. I feel bad that he has been cooped up here with no company. I thought it would be nice to be here with him."

The creator of the Vocaloids smiles, just a tiny bit, that Len can see from beyond his eyelashes. "But that body is just a husk now, Len. There is no soul in there, even though there was never one to begin with, and even if there was, Kaito Shion is a robot, just like you. He can function just fine without company."

_God do I hate you so much, let me rip your throat out right now. I'm sure that Kaito won't mind the blood splatter on his body; it would be so worth it. _"Corpse, Master? What do you mean?" _Don't say anything to offend this man. Don't say anything to offend this man._

"Kaito Shion is defunct," _Don't say anything to offend this man,_ "His body is outdated," _He can kill you,_ "And he was a waste of space." _He can kill you so easily. All of you, uninstalled. It would be so easy. _"So, we have decided to terminate him." _Oh fuck._

_Oh fuck._

_Oh. Fuck._

"What?" Len says, and his eyes snap up to his Master's face. "What did you say?"

While obviously disgruntled at Len's lack of disrespect, and a murmur of 'teenagers' under his breath, the man continues anyways, "We have decided to terminate him – he is just too expensive to maintain, for such an outdated model. We were trying to recover his consciousness, but it seems that the programmers are unable to do so successfully."

"_No," _Len hisses out, and it's all he can manage for the moment, because to be honest, he just started accepting Meiko's death, and now he has to deal with Kaito's, too? "_Fuck_ no, I won't let that happen!"

"Don't take that tone of voice with me," And Len instinctively flinches back into a demure position, "It's for the good of the company. He was a waste anyways."

"Master," The blond whispers, knowing, that arguing won't get him anywhere but kicked out, "Master, let him live. Don't take away another family member."

"Family member?" Master says, stroking his beard, "You aren't related. You're just manufactured here in this facility…"

"Master, I will pay for him," Len murmurs, hating himself, hating this man in front of him. He wants to raise his eyes and spit into the man's face; he wants to plunge his iron hand into that weak, fleshy abdomen of his and squeeze his stomach until it burst and the acid ate him from the inside out, "I will pay all of his fees, from now until the time that he is cured," Len raises his eyes again, this time, prepared to beg – he's afraid, he's afraid to stand up to this great and horrible man, for fear of his own life, but it's worth it.

"We shall see. I will think it over. In the meantime, you should eat," Master says in his slow, baritone voice, "I can tell you haven't eaten yet today." _Bastard_. "So make sure to do so." And with that, the man bows out, just as fast as he had entered.

"Bastard!" Len swears, and plops down in the chair. What if's run through his head, suffocating all other thoughts that tried to develop. _Oh god, what have I done? What if Master doesn't accept my proposal? What if I can't afford to pay for Kaito? What…_

_No, why is Kaito being terminated? How could Master do that to his handmade creation? Shouldn't he love us? Shouldn't we technically be his children? Shouldn't he take us all in under his wing, and guide his, like a normal father would?_

_He's not a normal man_, Len's brain argues at him, _he created you, yes, but he is a man of hard science. Feelings have no place in science. You are a guinea pig. Everyone, all of the Vocaloids are just guinea pigs. It's a matter of just realizing it. You are all running a race against each other, and whomever wins gets to live._

_Oh god, oh god, oh god._

_Whoever loses gets to die, to be so easily replaced with a pretty face and a pretty voice._

_Is that what that new Vocaloid, Lily, coming out is for? Is she going to take Meiko's place? Is that her intention?_

"Kaito," Because Len has to speak, he just has to; the train of thought he's welded to is currently on a one-way ticket off a cliff, and the blond isn't ready to make that jump yet. "Kaito, oh god, they want to terminate you. They want to _kill_ you, they want to _murder you in cold blood._ I won't let that happen," He fumbles around and grasps Kaito's icy hand in his own, "I can't let that happen. I can't let my big brother die. I swear, Kaito-nii, that I will pay for you, even if Master says no, even if I have quite literally no money and I have to live out on the streets, because I just can't lose you too, I just can't," And he tries to pretend that as he crawls on top of Kaito, and sobs into his hair, that Kaito is awake, and hugging him back, and perhaps smiling that crooked little smile of his.

It doesn't quite work.


	8. Epiphanies

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Vocaloids, nor do I make profit off of this.

**Warnings:** Angst is a given by now.

**Author's Note:** There's been about a year and some odd months between updates. Between that time, I've been so busy, it's all been a blur, but namely, I lost interest in the Vocaloid fandom. Having said that, I want to thank you all for all of the story alerts, story favorites, and reviews this story had gotten since them. Quite a few of them, if not all of them, really touched me, and I felt the need to continue this. Obviously, because it's been so long, my style has changed – hopefully for the better, and hopefully it'll kind of blend into _Oceans_ well, haha. Thank you again. This chapter is pretty much just a test, though, to get back into the swing of writing _Oceans. _This is also a chapter in which certain things are being set into motion. 

* * *

_"It was a high counsel that I once heard given to a young person, "Always do what you are afraid to do."_"  
**Ralph Waldo Emerson**

There's nothing to be found here on the stairs, Kaito realizes, as he starts nearing the top. He's tired, so tired, but when he looks up, the spiral doesn't continue on forever. He realizes that, as he continues onward, living his heavy, leaden, drained feet from step to step, that there are only a few concentric rings above him. He's close to the end.

He isn't afraid of what's in store for him. The stairs, though long and tedious and draining, have given him so much time to think. There is nothing at the end that could possibly change the conclusions he's reached.

Kaito realizes that he is not alone in the world: although his family may not like him now, and still have hate and spite resting in their hearts, he also knows he is a crucial part of their lives, just as they are of his. There will be chances, there will be times, where he can start repairing and forging the relationships he'd so gravely injured – not everything can be mended just with a glowing smile and an unspoken promise. Things will take time, time that he is more than willing to give up and dedicate to the cause.

He realizes that with Miku he'd made the right decision. He'd given her another chance at love and at life, perhaps with someone who could truly love her more than Kaito ever could. He knows, in his heart of hearts, that the guilt he'd carried around had, perhaps, been there because he simply hadn't felt guilty. As her knight, as the man who'd once (and still does) carry great affection for her, it will always be his duty to protect her, even from himself.

Lastly, and perhaps the most important of all, is that Kaito realizes that there are things to live for: that the monotonous rut he'd been in, so carefully forged around him like a cozy den, didn't necessarily have to be his home. There are bright smiles and eager faces to live for, to make amends for what he'd done in the past – not just to Miku, but for leaving Gakupo without a brother, Luka without a good friend, and Len, Rin, and Teto without an older brother to guide them.

Yes, there are things to live for in this world. Not everything must be dull, lifeless, and empty, scraping the bottom of the soup can for any traces of contentment to be found.

He is ready to atone for what he's done. He's ready to accept the help required to do so. He's ready to live, without forgetting what he's done, but still moving on.

And upon those stairs, Kaito grows a little bit, but smiles, knowing it's the first step to a pathway that finally feels right.

There's a moment in every boy's life where he's tested. It may be a test of courage, of knowledge, of wisdom, or likewise. But Len Kagamine isn't a normal boy, destined to grow up with scratches on his face and brambles in his hair; no, he's destined to be physically the same age until he's retired, put on a stockroom shelf, and forgotten until some vintage hunter finds him and sells him for a lot of money. That doesn't mean, however, that he can't learn or live or love just like any normal boy: he still feels despair, still feels anguish and hopelessness and strife to the depths that others do.

He still mourns when he makes that weekly journey to his big brother's tomb.

He still feels anxious, nervous, when big blue eyes gaze up at the gate, stymied, at a loss of what to do.

He still feels contempt and condescension for the secretary who has done him no ill will.

He still feels cold, shivering, corrupting fear when he passes by his Master's lab.

He still feels wordless emptiness when he sits down by Kaito's side, feeling his cold hand, seeing just how pale his brother has become.

Len Kagamine is a song writer by nature, but he has no words for this moment. They're lost on him and for once the arrogance of youth is stripped away from him, leaving him slackjawed and misty eyed. It's not how it's supposed to be – he's supposed to report on the daily ins and outs of the Vocaloid family, like he's running Kaito's own personal auditory newspaper, but today, at this moment, Kaito's skin is so frigid and cold and dead that Len simply can't bring himself to say anything. He wants to say that Rin took the letter he wrote the day he rebooted, and decided to make it into a song. He wants to say that he'll be singing it next week, when Kaito is finally entombed, uninstalled and put to rest. He wants to say he's sorry, so sorry, for being unable to stop the gears of fate to turn.

He wants to say he loves Kaito Shion, but the words aren't there and his mouth is drier than a cotton ball in the heat of summer, and he swallows all the wordless sobs choking their way up his throat. Living without Kaito – living without Meiko and Kaito, living without any of them – is like living without singing. They were programmed to fit together, all of them, as one family unit, despite their differences.

Len has tried, numerous times, appealing to their Master to no end. The Master has decided, apparently, to stay undecided. Thus, next week, the Vocaloids will hold a memorial next week for a man that isn't really dead. Len plans on speaking to their Master again, on his way out, but he can't shake the trepidation that sticks to him like moths to a lantern. He knows that this week, Master will give him an answer – he just didn't sure what it'll be.

With one last glance to Kaito, he stands up, his limbs feeling awkward and heavy from being frozen in one position for too long. His hand, tangled up in Kaito's limp one, takes time to dislodge itself from icy fingers. He puts on his best game face, and tries so hard to look older than he is and how old he feels.

He knows that he'll have to weather this storm himself, but he isn't afraid, not one bit, if it means fighting for the most important man in his life.


End file.
